


Also Sprach Whoever The Hell

by Sharyrazade



Series: Children of Men - Fallen PT AU [8]
Category: Catherine (Video Game), Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anonymous Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bars and Pubs, Caught, Choose Your Own Ending, Consensual Underage Sex, Daddy Kink, Depression, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/F, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Heartbreak, Jealousy, Male Friendship, Multi, Museums, Non-Explicit Sex, Outing, Paris (City), Public Sex, Self-Esteem Issues, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Humor, Stealth Crossover, Technically Not a Crossover, Unrequited Love, Walking In On Someone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-02-28 15:38:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13274553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharyrazade/pseuds/Sharyrazade
Summary: Finale or: Don't lie to yourself. You can exactly see this kind of thing happening to these dorks.





	Also Sprach Whoever The Hell

 "No, he should be back in a few." Sojiro said. "Feel free to hang around; I shouldn't be long."

"Thank you." replied Makoto with a light bow.

"After all, he was going to be in the area and lodging's not exactly in a kid like his budget, you know?"

The bell ringing behind Leblanc's proprietor as he exited the establishment and switched the sign to "closed" did little to alleviate the knot in Makoto's stomach; in all her nineteen years, no examination, no matter how high the stakes, had ever given her the sense of trepidation that the task before her had. Indeed, on some level, she did consider this a test of sorts. Months to process the feelings, even more months of study, rehearsal, and summoning the courage to actually divulge said feelings to their intended target. While she would have liked some personal, girl-to-girl advice on the topic, her mother had long since passed and the only other woman she actually felt comfortable was, by her own admission, even worse off than she. _("You know how close I am to just giving up on men altogether?"_ Sae had asked on more than one occasion)

With that said, her window of opportunity to confess her feelings to the thieves' leader was short- before he returned home to whatever backwater town he called home. A naturally-anxious person, Makoto had mapped out any possible scenarios for why Akira may refuse her in her head. _"I'm just not ready for that kind of relationship." "I love you Makoto - but like a friend or a sister." "I'm sorry, Makoto, but I like men."_ Judging by her research and observation of the young man,  she'd calculated (in descending order roughly) the second, third, and first as his most likely reasons.

Inhaling deeply, as Makoto took that first step up to Leblanc's old attic, she once again mentally rehearsed the opening of her confession. _Hey, Akira- Kusuru-kun- Akira-kun-_ However, as she ascended the staircase further, her keen ears noticed something odd; a _very_ familiar pattern of heavy breathing coming from the attic. Come to think of it, she'd really only heard such breathing at such intensity a couple of years prior when they went up against the (sigh) prime minister's shadow or his son.

Steeling herself nonetheless, as she caught a glimpse of the mirror situated in the corner of the attic, Makoto felt her heart shatter as the image came closer into focus, said mirror showing the reflection of an Akira, nose in the air and looking (and sounding) _very_ pleased with himself, the reason for said expression as obvious as the ash blonde's pigtailed head bobbing rhythmically at his midsection, the young man occasionally running a guiding, affectionate hand through the locks.

Perhaps betrayal was not exactly the correct feeling to surmise what exactly Makoto was feeling at that point in time. It was not as if she had branded "property of Makoto Niijima" on his backside, after all. Nonetheless, with all that time, effort, and emotional investment having gone to waste, Makoto was not exactly pleased either, very tempted to storm up the stairs and berate the pair of lovers for...what, precisely?

Fine, Makoto told herself icily. If that's what Akira- what he wants instead of her, the honor student and all-around _wunderkind_ , that's fine. Let him have his airheaded, little blonde cocksucker- wait, there was no need for such vulgarity, who was she, Ryuji?!-  his airheaded, little blonde _fellatrix_ , then he could just be her guest; she would not lose a wink of sleep or a single tear over him, Makoto promised herself as she left the steps leading up to the attic.

 

And speak of the devil, none other than Ryuji sat at the furthest barstool, lounging boredly on the bar's surface. "Hey, Makoto, have you seen Akira anywhere?" he inquired. "We were supposed to spend the day in Akihabara."

"I-haven't seen him." lied Makoto, just as much for herself. "S-speaking of old friends, have you talked to Ann as of late?"

"Nah, can't say that I have. Although it wouldn't surprise me if they were together, what with them being together and all."

"What...do you mean exactly by 'together,' Ryuji?"

The bottle blond cocked his head sideways in confusion. "Are you for real right now? Y'know, together? Like boyfriend and girlfriend! I was sure someone sharp as you would have picked up on that. They've actually been like that for some time now. At least since last year. They're a good match...I just can't really put my finger on why I think that, but they just _work_ together, y'know?"

As if Makoto's day could not have gotten any worse, the universe and all concerned parties seemed to have been collaborating to play some cruel joke against her. "I see." _What a complete fool I've been._

His years of running his establishment giving Sojiro a keen instinct for troubled patrons, the bar's master was quick to pick up on Makoto's distress. "Hm, something wrong?"

Makoto clenched her eyes shut. "It's nothing, really," she lied once more. "a blonde succubus just stabbed me in the back."

The dye explicitly designed to distinguish him from his peers, Ryuji took notice of the apparent slight. "Hey! I didn't do nothing to you!" he protested. "At least have the decency to tell me if I did-"

Truth was, at that moment, Makoto would have loved nothing more than to punch Ryuji in the face, but, much like with her hypothetical confrontation with Akira and the blonde "succubus," she thought better of it, leaving the cafe in a huff.

* * *

 There truly was nothing like a good smoke in the moonlight to put all the bullshit in ones life into perspective, Sojiro Sakura thought calmly, taking a drag from his cigarette. From a somewhat-busier customer base, to instability in Latin America driving up prices of coffee beans, all of it just seemed so utterly insignificant in the moon's glow.

Of course, there were some things that, no matter how relaxing his surroundings, would not, could not be ignored. And his adopted daughter (apparently) gasping and squealing in pain audible from down the street, was one of these things.

Dropping cigarette and groceries both, the coffee king raced for his establishment, all sorts of horrible images running through his head as he cursed to himself at his thorough locking procedures. "Futaba, are you alright?!" he called. "Can you hear me, Futaba?! Futaba!"

Unlocking the door after what seemed like a panicked eternity, Sojiro nearly had a heart attack after learning the real reason for her whines and sporadic outbursts of isolated profanity; which was to say, the flushed young lady bent over the rearmost table with her shorts pooled at her ankles, courtesy of a certain vulgar young man. Naturally, even someone like Futaba instinctively understood this to be one of the most awkward possible positions. "Soooo...Sojiro..." she said nervously. "You're back already...."

"Oh, Boss!" interjected Ryuji nervously, grasping in vain for his own discarded trousers. "Hah, hah, fancy meeting you here!"

For the second-and-a-half it took Sojiro to process what exactly was happening, his reaction was purely one of instinct. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!"

 

Reflexively grasping for the still-indisposed Ryuji's neck, the lad's escape and Sojiro's reaction made quite the mess in the cafe, knocking over much of the bar's contents even before he sent a rare collectable mug sailing at the back of Ryuji's head as he escaped through the door. Shortly thereafter, Leblanc's proprietor chased Ryuji for a good block-and-a-half on a frantic, humiliating pursuit which left Ryuji with an enduring, lifelong hatred for the zipper fly and its creator.

While not thrilled with what he'd walked in on, Sojiro, nonetheless, was not proud of how he'd conducted himself. Still, sooner or later, it would have to be dealt with, he reminded himself as he returned to the chaos he'd sown, Futaba having replaced her own clothing to a relatively-pristine state. "Sooooooo....I'll just be going home-" she said, hoping against hope that her guardian would not press the issue.

"Stay." Sojiro ordered sternly, at which Futaba, defeated, situated herself on one of the barstools.

As he took its counterpart to the right, Sojiro was greeted immediately by the generally-relaxed, somewhat-arrogant Futaba sounding slightly fearful. "I know what you're thinking and it's not like that!" she insisted. "Ryuji's a great guy, and besides, this whole thing was actually my idea-"

"I don't have any reason to doubt that, Futaba. He's rough around the edges, but he's still a good kid." he replied, his mighty, booming voice sounding deflated. "I thought you were in danger and was just... surprised by what I saw and overreacted. I'm...sorry. You're seventeen- nearly a woman in your own right, and I need to respect that. Still, Sakamoto? I would have never seen that one coming-"

Leblanc's proprietor winced at his inartful phrasing as Futaba smiled sheepishly "Sooooo....we can put this whole awkward mess behind us...right?"

 

Sojiro's gaze turned to resemble that of a hawk closing in on a helpless field mouse. "Oh, no you don't!" he insisted. "Just because I screwed up, doesn't mean there won't be some ground rules. It's just like I told your friend when he was living with me; I don't really care what it is you want to do, just as long as you're safe about it. When you and he were- ugh, together, you used-"

Futaba rolled her eyes at the impending lecture. "Yes, Sojiro." she replied boredly. "I'm not a moron."

"Well, good."

In spite of all of the bullshit he'd dealt with in the past hour alone, Sojiro still managed one of his trademark, confident smirks. "I'm fine with 'big daddy,' but I've still got at least a good couple of decades before I'm ready for the ladies to call me grandpa!"

With this choice of words, Futaba found it prudent not to mention one of her suggestions as to what to call Ryuji in the heat of the moment every now and again.

* * *

Of all the nights for the CCTV to be fucked up, it had to be today, thought Luc de la Garde irritably. Damn near every famous landmark is said at one point or another to be haunted, but the few remaining patrons insisting the Richelieu wing had become such in the past hour or so was laughable. Receiving a signal from the two-way radio on his hip, the irritated security guard answered. "That CCTV up yet, Ali?" he asked. "Maybe it'll shed some light on our 'ghost' problem."

_"Still working on it, sorry."_ came Ali's voice. _"Look's like you'll have to do this the old-fashioned way."_

"Yeah, it does."

Cursing to himself, Luc dismissed his coworker, readying his flashlight for the wing where half the lights had already been shut down for the night. This was such complete bullshit, he thought. Did management really have nothing better to do than have grunts like them on completely frivolous assignments? After all, _he_ had a life too- But upon listening closely, he _could_ make out a high-pitched, feminine wailing in the distance. Luc was tempted to write it off as his mind playing tricks until it restarted again, albeit with more intensity. Now that he thought about it, Luc could see how someone, Brits especially, might mistake whatever the hell this was, for a ghost. Not that he believed in that nonsense, of course.

But the truth of the matter proved somewhat more mundane; with the moans (interspersed with grunts here and there) reaching a fever pitch, Luc turned the corner, finding the true culprit, or rather, true culprits, in a rather unusual situation. Namely, two of the patrons, tourists obviously, caught _in flagrante delicto_ , the woman, while clearly enjoying herself, was absolutely mortified being caught bent over a banister by her husband. "O-oh, dear." a red-faced Hifumi remarked.

"Erm- This...is not what it looks like...?" Yusuke insisted weakly.

"It's exactly what it looks like." Luc corrected.

Still a consummate professional despite his foul mood, Luc allowed the pair to redress themselves before forcibly escorting them to the security office, upon which time Yusuke and Hifumi were photographed and their portraits added to the _interdiction a vie_ wall before being asked to leave.

* * *

Brazen would probably be the very last word one would have used to describe Haru Okumura. And otherwise, this would likely be true. Nonetheless, her tutor in the arts of seduction, making gratuitous use of the possibility for off-color puns concerning his former feline persona, assured her that the most important thing was for her to be confident in herself, her actual feelings be damned. Still, sitting blindfolded in a suite at a certain Tokyo "ladies' club" naked as the day she was born, Haru wondered how exactly she had gotten to this point in the first place.

Nonetheless, the door creaking open and the sound of two sets of footsteps left Haru trembling in anxiety and anticipation.

Shortly detecting a hand cupping her cheek, Haru quickly determined that one of her "guests" was right on top of her. _"Well, I must hand it to you, love."_ came the first woman's low, sultry voice, slowly trailing a finger down Haru's body. _"Even completely at random, you have a way of finding the good ones."_

The second woman giggled slightly. _"You're so sweet."_ she replied, her own hands massaging Haru's stomach and working their way upwards.

Haru wanted to remark on the oddly-familiar voice, but this inclination was shortly complicated by her chin being taken in the first woman's fingers. _"You will follow our commands without hesitation, you will not speak unless spoken to. Understand, wench?"_

"Yes, I understand, mistress." squeaked Haru.

 

Three sets of fingers teasing and taunting the most sensitive spots on her body, Haru, in her own building ecstasy, was quite inclined to follow her mistress' commands, letting only slight moans escape her lips- until the second woman's familiarity became undeniable.  _"This one smells so nice...and these tits..."_ woman behind her said dreamily.  _"Wait a second-"_

Apparently the realization struck Haru and one of her mistresses at once. "Wait, Sae-san?"

_"Haru?!"_

Someone or another having switched on the light, the second it took for the three sets of eyes to readjust from the pitch darkness, Haru squealed in embarrassment, futilely attempting to cover her nakedness. The other woman, an imposing redhead, simply rolled her visible eye. "My sweet, the fantasy IS the darkness and anonymity." she scolded.

"I know, I know!" Sae protested. "It's just- Er...how are you, Haru? Have you been well?"

"F-fine, fine!" Haru insisted, feeling and looking around for her discarded clothing.

"So, you two do know each other?"

Sae sighed, both in exasperation from a ruined night and from the sheer awkwardness of the situation. "Mitsuru, this is Haru; she's a dear friend of my sister's."

The redhead raised an eyebrow. "Ah, yes, Ms. Okumura. Haven't we met previously?"

"P-possibly as children."

 

Looking around the gaudily-decorated room aimlessly, Sae exhaled once more. "You know, I'm just not feeling it anymore." she said tiredly.

"If I recall, this was your idea." answered Mitsuru, somewhat irritably. "Why the change?"

Avoiding the diminutive, fluffy-haired elephant in the room and the awkwardness of having spent a straight minute groping the breasts of her sister's friend, Sae resumed. "You know what, why don't we just go home and watch a movie or something?"

The severe redhead's expression turned somewhat less severe at the suggestion. "Any flexibility on the-"

"No, not _that_ kind of movie."

The burning urge to (sexually) dominate Haru having largely dissipated in light of the commotion and her lover's discomfort, Mitsuru sighed with exasperation, giving her silent assent to end the night's adventure. As the couple departed the suite, Sae flashed her would-be-conquest a gentle smile. "Good to see you again," she finished, still ill-at-ease somehow. "Take care, Haru."

"Y-you too, Sae-san."

Now alone in the suite to her relief, a still-mortified Haru, having partially redressed herself, unsure exactly what to discuss (if anything) about the incident. Nonetheless, Haru felt compelled to ask her "coach" of sorts for his advice, dialing one of the saved numbers. _"So, how'd it go?"_ came a deep, melodious voice, obviously belonging to a man.

"Well, it went fine...until I recognized one of my new lady friends as being _her_ sister with her lover. After that, everything just kind of fell apart."

_"Wait, for real?!  What are the odds?! Huh, life can be funny like that sometimes."_

"I don't really know if your advice telling me to just 'be confident' is really going to work, Mona-chan."

_"Well, why wouldn't it?"_

"Because I'm not!"

_"Trust me, Haru, sometimes pretending is all you've got in that area."_

 

Morgana paused briefly. _"With that said, of course, she of all people, doesn't need to know you slept with her sister. I'm speaking from experience."_

Inclined to nitpick about how she technically did not sleep with Sae (this time), Haru nonetheless recalled one of her very first lessons. "Oh, no, of course not!" she protested. "Even I know that one!"

* * *

"I don't give a damn about the political situation in Guangzhou!" scolded Yuuki as he stepped off the elevator. "I don't give a damn if they're lynching party bigwigs in the streets-"

_"Er- Mr. Mishima?"_ came the already-exhausted voice. _"That's exactly what's happening. And despite Beijing's efforts to the contrary, it's all over the internet."_

Feeling rather foolish, but still exhausted wanting nothing more than to get on with his weekend, the IT mogul's frustration was significantly lessened. "Look, these south China acquisitions are really important, but I know you can handle them. If there are any more problems, just brief me on Monday."

_"Will do, sir."_

Sliding his key into the lock, Yuuki could swear he had heard Makoto's voice, almost as though she were in pain! Grabbing the closest thing which could reasonably be used as a blunt weapon (a lamp pulled from the wall socket), Mishima raced to the bedroom, ignoring the breathless pleas.

_"Haaaah, right there! Oh, fuck yes!"_

_"Haru! I'm so close!"_

Barrelling through the oddly-closed bedroom door, the man of the house announced his presence. "Alright, you bastards, if you- Huh?!"

Makoto's eyes widened like saucers at the appearance of her husband and the lamp clattering to the ground. "Yuuki! You're home!" she exclaimed, abruptly untwining her legs from Haru's, vainly attempting to cover herself with the sheets. "Th-thi- It's not what you think!"

Still rather worked up herself, Haru, lacking any self-consciousness concerning her own nudity whatsoever, began to nibble at Makoto's left earlobe. "Oh, come now, Mako-chan!" she chirped, directing a smirk of sadistic glee at Mishima. "There's no need to be so bashful about our love!"

Honestly, were he ever in such a position, Yuuki had expected himself to do...well, _something_. Scream, yell, harangue, even cry. Instead, he just felt... _numb_. "I'm...gonna go take a walk." he said blankly. "Don't wait up for me."

* * *

"SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIIIIIIIT!" cursed Ryuji, sure his volume was rivaling, if not surpassing that of the smoke alarm as he searched in vain for a way to salvage his late, would-be-mother-in-law's curry recipe for several seconds before Futaba almost certainly saved his life with the fire extinguisher.

"Hey, babe." he greeted dejectedly. "I was gonna try and surprise you with your mom's curry, but- yeah."

"Oh, you're so sweet!" she squealed. "But I just bought back a couple of bentos, since I really need to get this paper done before Friday."

"For real?...Ah, screw it, I'm going out with Akira and the guys in a little bit, I'll just get something on the way there. Shouldn't be any later than usual, but don't wait up for me."

"Okay. But is everything okay with Yuuki? He kept sending these frantic texts."

"Yeah, the dude's been texting like he's having a meltdown for hours now."

 

[*](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n08b1ptdnYM)The Lost Lamb, a fairly-upscale watering hole tucked away in an unassuming corner in the Nakano ward, had in the past few years, become a favorite nighttime gathering for the male members of the Phantom Thieves and select close associates to simply reflect, unwind, and catch up with one another, as well as have a few cold drinks. Throwing a couple of bills in the jar of that weird blind girl with the white hair who never left the piano, Ryuji sighed at the proprietor, unwittingly picking a verbal fight with his best friend.

Looking at the portrait of his wife and children as his phone's wallpaper, the barman could not help but remark upon the family situation of one of his best customers. "Cute kids. They yours?"

"Yes..." confirmed Akira suspiciously, his stubbled chin twisting off to the side. "What's it to you?"

The bartender chuckled fondly. "Oh, nothing, nothing. It just takes me back, is all. I don't mean to offend, of course. You're my best customer, after all! Well, next to Suguru-kun."

While he and some close male friends had recently taken up this gentleman's (admittedly rather charming) bar in recent years, despite Sojiro's vouching for him as an old acquaintance, Akira just could not help but dislike the the old barman a great deal. Fucking Rat Pack asshole who can't let go of his youth, he thought exasperatedly. But it wasn't so much his appearance that Akira held against him, rather the fact that he seemed to know just a _bit_ too much about how there was more to this world than met the eye. Just as suspicious is that, while Akira knew him for a fact not to be visually impaired, he literally never removed his sunglasses. Maybe he'd have to have a talk with the ant-farm-kid, er- Administrator of Mankind and if he/it had any outstanding disputes. Thanks to the favor Iwai owed him, Ryuji's coworkers were adept at making troublesome people disappear every now and again, but this- this could be on an entirely different level.

The man with immaculately-coiffed black hair and blue eyes and Ryuji taking their normal stools to either side of Akira, the latter winced, not merely at the mention of Kamoshida. "Y'know, this guy's REAL protective of his kids, Chief." Ryuji reminded. "Ann too for that matter, but if you really want on his shitlist-"

Pouring their usual poisons for Ryuji and Morgana, 'Chief' pushed his shades further along the bridge of his nose. "Of course, I didn't mean to pry." he fibbed. "Your dye job is impeccable, by the way. Why the change?"

Ryuji shrugged. "No reason, I was just feeling it. I'd actually let it fade for a while."

 

After several minutes of unwinding, decompressing, and light drinking, the conversation finally got going upon Ryuji's remarks Hifumi's text message reminding him it was his night to read to their daughter. "So, it must really suck for you married guys sometimes, huh?" Ryuji jabbed to a collection of groans and haranguing.

"As if you and Futaba don't count." replied Morgana. "You two are basically married anyway."

"He's got a point." Akira pointed out. "Call a duck a dog all you want, it still swims, has feathers and a beak."

The exchange was interrupted by the very distinct text messaging alert tone Ryuji had set for Futaba. "Hey, babe, I'm kind of stuck on my paper so- Woah, for real?! Geez, woman, warn me before you send something like that! I'm in public!"

Morgana activated an app on his own phone which triggered the very audible _crack_ of a whip, earning laughter from all the patrons save the one at the very end of the bar. "I'm glad you guys are having fun," said Mishima darkly, brooding with several spent glasses. "but I kind of need tonight to be about me. What with my marriage basically over after little more than a year and my midlife crisis hitting fifteen years early and all."

The group turned their attention to their troubled friend. "THAT's what those weird texts were about?!" Ryuji exclaimed.

"Well, people only really get this worked up over sex or money." Morgana reminded. "He's got more money than any of us, sooooo...."

"Wow, that sucks, man." interjected Akira, as if he were not already aware of the news from Haru.

"Oh, come now, friend!" said Yusuke, in a misguided attempt to lighten the mood. "We all know this is not your first time as a cuckold."

Yuuki simply scowled. "Gee, thanks. That makes me feel SO much better. As opposed to what I am; hurt, betrayed, confused, regretful, angry- and actually kind of turned on by the idea."

Morgana would have liked little more than to spit at that last point. "Thanks for sharing, Mishima." he said sarcastically.

Akira reflected upon the whole situation with Yuuki and Makoto; Haru, he'd pegged, not least because she'd told him all about it, but Makoto? He would have never guessed she liked women. Simply giving a light smile as he recalled his bet ( _"Oh, yeah babe, she totally swings both ways.")_ with his wife, he guessed he owed Ann fifty yen after all and his bi-dar wasn't as good as he'd first expected; not to mention that hers, was in fact, superior.

 

As if to signal a lull in the conversation, the barman coughed conspicuously. "Oh, silly me." he interjected. "It seems I'm out of rum."

"Really?!" fumed Ryuji. "Then go get some more!"

Glancing at the girl on the piano, 'Chief' smirked. "It would be my pleasure."

In the kitchen and well-away from the suspicious, spectacled man, 'Chief' could not help but grin. "That one on the end," he remarked. "He could be exactly what we're looking for."

"You saw him, he already suspects you." she reminded bitterly. "If he even gets the slightest inkling, we're-"

"Yes, yes my dear, I can see that- oh, I apologize."

The young lady removed her spectacles, her piercing gold eyes trained on the barman. "I'm not actually blind. You're aware of that, right, Dzu-"

Shushing her with a hand over her mouth, 'Chief' was rather incensed. "Don't use that name!"

Meanwhile, back out front, the brooding regular had another thought eating away at him. "I just realized something," he said glumly. "do you think I did this?"

"What are you talking about, man?" asked Akira.

"What if it was Makoto's- her experience with me that drove her to it?!"

\- "No way, that's ridiculous."

\- "It's possible, I guess..."

\- "Suicide, maybe, not lesbianism."

**Author's Note:**

> Roughly in order:  
> \- Ooh, that was a bitch move of me, wasn't it? Nonetheless, I just wanted to tie that back to Ryuji and his unwitting vocabulary. But then again, it wasn't really since, I've, well... been there, done that, bought the t-shirt, got blackout drunk and forcibly ejected from the premises for drunken disorderly conduct.  
> \- Sojiro didn't particularly dislike/distrust Ryuji; he's just really protective  
> \- Apparently, Yusuke is technisexual, as in he likes art - a lot. A reference to a joke I was told about the game and my reaction of "yeah, right!" only to learn, it wasn't a joke; and since one of Hifumi's nicknames was "the Venus of Shogi," it actually worked on another level  
> \- Mona must have taught Haru pretty well, huh?  
> And finally:  
> \- Ryuji just strikes me as the kind of guy who can't cook to save his life for whatever reason  
> \- The dead horse joke about Catherine being the test engine for Persona 5 and how Joker and Kamoshida are both literally Vincent and another concept I'm playing with  
> \- Poor Yuuki, but I just wanted an excuse to make that reference at the very end


End file.
